


An Extra Solo

by Miandraden1



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Justified Burn, Not Fast Burn, Some Actual Swearing, Work In Progress, not slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-11-24 00:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miandraden1/pseuds/Miandraden1
Summary: There are some things one just knows when being Han Solo’s sister.First off, the Solo name is an invention. It seemed safer, he said, if “his people”, as in me, couldn’t be tracked down. So when asked he said he was alone. The Recruitment Officer took it to heart.Second, one never mentions the name Qi’ra in his presence (or mine), ever. Far as I can piece up together, the sweet girl that followed him around and then left me alone, is a treacherous heartbreaker.Third, he has a bad temper, a stubborn head and a beautiful heart. One doesn’t just question Han when he doesn’t want to be questioned, but you’ll hardly find a more loyal person than my brother if he commits himself to you.Fourth, put quite simply, he doesn’t trust people. I blame the kriffing heartbreaker, but I know its complicated.Fifth and last, there is no better ship than the battered Millenium Falcon, the ship that did the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.Now I just gotta find a way to either steer him away from this forceforsaken desert rock or get money for the Hutts quick, because while he may try to bull his way through trouble, I know the solutions are usually found far far away from the problem.





	1. The Disobedient Stalker

**Author's Note:**

> I felt there were too few Luke Skywalker/OC stories, and this is my contribution to fix it. Thank you for giving me a chance here.  
> This story is about a little more than just romance though.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perusal of Tatooine Opportunities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I wanted to point out that the character you are about to see is flawed, and the things she interprets about the world are not always to be taken completely as fact.

**Tatooine : Two Days After Losing The Shipment**

I chewed on my lip, leaning back, and the Falcon’s cockpit roof didn’t seem to offer much on the way of comfort. If I had the energy and a little bit more of mechanical knowledge, perhaps, I would try and fix some of the old girl’s many technical problems. But the fact was I didn’t, and I couldn’t, and I was sitting here like some useless arthritis-ridden Bantha.

If Han was gonna stop me from being productive, I could make an unproductive ass of myself, I suppose. I spied the Namana box the back-stabbing imperial informant had given us as we took off with the merchandise. Something about continuing profitable business relations in the future, darned bastard. At least this drug wasn’t illegal, or he woulda gotten us into more problems than a mafia debt. Really, who just turned around and called th Imperials?! Misreading my glance, the Wookie on the co-pilot’s seat let out a growly, yet soft by his standards, admonition. I rolled my eyes. “Of course Han would know. That stuff smells really strong once unwrapped. And c’mon, you know how addictive they are?” Chewie whined. I waved a hand at him. “Well then just go make your _casual_ rounds at the cantina, or all of Han’s posturing will be for naught.” I took his furry massive paw between my much smaller hands, and pulled up, standing up myself. He didn’t budge. I rose an eyebrow. “Perhaps you guys may actually close a deal for us, hmmm? Everyone knows wookies are capable!” With a final wail, he stood up, patting my head with his other paw and as per his request, I accompanied him to the ramp. All the way he gave his compromising soothing, and understanding growls, and c’mon, the fuzzball is a sweetheart. But his life debt is to Han. If Han says keep the little sister aboard lest she actually try to find us money, thus dismantling our relaxed façade, Chewie is going to agree all the way. Honestly it was more suspicious that we weren’t all together drinking right now, or case in point, that nobody was planning on drinking until we could sell the image of out of danger. That edge of sobriety was important when one wasn't sure what to expect. We shouldn’t even be in this rock. I nodded as he went down the ramp. “Bye, Chewie, yeah, yes, I’m sleepy anyways, I need a nap.” Poor furball must be cooking under all that sun. I walked around the Falcon for a bit after that, biding my time ‘till he was safely away. Changed my clothes, short and airy to be fresh, but not so much so that I would call unwanted attention, grabbed the Namana candies and was out the Falcon.

I had been on Tatooine plenty of times the last years, so I knew what to expect, stepping out of the ship after a week and a half in the cold embrace of space. I knew that the sand somehow permeated the air and stuck to the promptly sweaty skin, that the heat initially felt quite pleasant but soon became insistently bothersome, like an itch on the nose when your hands are bound. I knew not to look at the sand if I didn’t want my eyes to hurt from the brightness. I knew not to breathe too deeply, nor to keep my mouth open for any extended period of time. I knew to not drag my feet. I knew not to look too closely at any dealings beside my own, and that hogging shadow spots was impolite (even in as rough a place as this). I knew that, despite the sharp light, some places could be as lonely and potentially dangerous as the dark alley of a metropolis. I knew the place was always crawling with bounty hunters hoping to stumble upon a job. I knew, really, that nobody was here unless they were willing to cut corners and were just the slightest bit desperate.

It also stands to logic that I know what not to expect, and Imperial Patrols complete with checkpoints was just out of place. Harsh to the eye by both their befuddling presence and the gleaming white armor.  But it also sorta made me excited. Monotony is stable. By definition it doesn’t bring about special opportunities of the likes we needed just about now. Something brought about Empire interest and it may spell money. But being out of the loop isn’t exactly conductive to making it. It would stand out a bit too much to just come right up to a stormtrooper and ask. I reflected upon the hows as I haggled a price for the candies, the actual honest trader justifiably weary. 700. It was something. And now, I felt optimistic.

I honestly hadn’t planned much beyond fetching a price for the underhanded gift. And I couldn’t usually ever really partake in my… means of income with the ease Han could in a place like this. Case in point, since everyone was desperate, I felt quite guilty at the concept of taking the precious spare from their pockets. Yes, I was a thief. But I do have a bit of a sentimental code speared into my soul. I rode my shirt up a bit, tying a knot, exposing my belly button just so. I leaned lazily against a counter, like I had been lounging there all afternoon. Confidently I can say, however, that I feel quite lighthearted making use of the non-desperate. “Hey officer.” I called, jutting out a hip, and I watched as a diligent stormtrooper turned his attention towards me. He seemed to hesitate just a second before making his way towards me. That’s just soldiers for ya’. “Ma’am.” I bit my lip and let out a giggle so breathy, I would be making fun at myself for days just remembering this moment. I channeled my nervous 16-year-old with a crush at him. “I’m sorry…” I began, and then touched his armor. “But I’ve never met uniformed men before. I just… I would love- my family would love, I’m sure… to invite you to eat and maybe take that pesky helmet off.” The armor shifted. Here comes. “I’m sorry ma’am.” He said, and it was quite evident he was. “But we’re on duty right now and our- well, our job is really important.” Or your superiors are not so forgiving. I pouted. “What could be so important you can’t even enjoy a simple dinner?!” I cried out, and held in a cringe at myself. “Oh, it’s an intelligence matter, my lady.” He said, obviously trying to subtly oversell his peon importance, and I resisted the urge to raise my eyebrows too much. “We’re looking for… two delicate robots. And R2-D2 unit and an etiquette droid.” And that was the all I needed. Expressing disappointment while I felt smug with victory, I bid my farewells as I strolled ‘sullenly’ away. Ones I turned the corner I loosened my shirt again and began considering. Intelligence matter. Probably Rebel data (what other group would hide secrets the Empire cares about?), and it was something Han would be quite displeased to be involved in. Now, helping the Empire was a random shot. But any advantage the Rebels could get over the galactic government was something they’d be anxious for, and willing to pay good cash for. The kinda good to not only pay Jabba but keep us afloat awhile, if we play our cards right. It was a standard smuggling job, really. Taking things under people’s noses and delivering them safely.

Now, came the matter of finding two droids in this town before the darned soldiers looking all around already. I put my hands in my hips, glanced around, passed over the usual population of greedy characters and well- wait- I glanced back, blinked a couple of times. I would like to say it was the two droids of the exact designation I was looking for that called to my attention, but no, it was the humans they were following behind. More on point, actually, the boy who sorta looked my age, but looked around wide-eyed, curiosity, the soft wariness of the ignorant and naivety brimming in his bright blue eyes, making me feel slightly envious. He also had a gait of complete comfortability with the heat and the sand, his constantly somewhat open mouth showing the dry air wasn’t a problem for him either. I’d never seen anybody like that around here before. I was struck by the thought that I didn’t know Tatooine, not really, I know Mos Eisley. Mos Eisley, a traffic point, a passing town, a smugglers den, a scavenger’s market. A place for people who weren’t born, grown, reproduced and ended on Tatooine. I didn’t know day-to-day-necessity merchants, or moisture farmers, or whatever the heck else just lived on Tatooine. This worn planet had finally surprised me. And it was really about more than the boy (though he was not hard on the eyes), upon closer inspection, their whole party was weird.

The hooded figure, that was by itself very common, seemed to hide a rather relaxed old man. An old man, and a boy, with two droids that were valuable enough on their own, walking down the road of Mos Eisley with next to no head turned greedily towards them. It was madness under usual circumstance. Now maybe Iwould have just marked them off as lucky, as family travelers that had already been checked out and had their droids dismissed, if it wasn’t for the harsh glint of light that came from the boy’s belt. From there hung a metal cylinder that looked a bit too… complicated to be just a tube. Nobody carries parts around like that. The only pieces of somewhat advanced technology displayed freely like that on belts were blasters. And though it wasn’t anything recognizable, I had little doubt, suddenly, about its purpose.

And that innocent looking boy displaying a rare weapon? Yeah, something was fishy about that lot.

The boy glanced my way, and immediately I feigned being bothered with sand on my boot, turning away just enough that I could keep track of them. Once free from his attentions, I set to following, walking as if I had just planning to go that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to investigate a little as I write. Those Namana Candies, though they don't show up on the movies, are a real thing in the Star Wars Universe! 
> 
> If I'm being to vague at any point, in which you can't follow exactly what my character is thinking, I would be quite glad if you pointed it out. I am open to criticism and opinions. It helps my writing, it does. 
> 
> If nobody comments, I'm not sure anybody is following, and thus I don't know if anybody is expecting new chapters. It really is a motivating factor.


	2. Cantina Conversations and Stolen Items

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Protagonist finally establishes contact with the mysterious group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't made a revision of this chapter, so if you find any typos or incongruencies I would be most grateful if you pointed them out to me.

I had been trying to ignore the possibility as we walked the increasingly familiar road. But as I spied them entering the cantina, I couldn’t help but wish I had just intercepted them the moment I saw them.

Now, again, I had reasons to not just walk up to them. If they were, indeed, the people the troopers were looking for, it was a safe bet they would be weary. I needed an excuse to get acquainted, and I just knew the flirty stupid girl stitch wouldn’t work on either the old man or the kid. Then again, maybe I didn’t like being too direct in my approaches. That’s what growing up in Corellia does to you. That or, well, turn you into a reckless sun-seeking Fyrnock. I´m quite glad that side of the coin didn’t fall on me. Most of the time. Just not about now.

I walked towards the entrance. Pulling my handkerchief from my back pocket, I wrapped it around my face, just letting my eyes peek out. As long as I didn’t cause too much trouble, neither Han nor Chewie should notice me. The dark shadows and the cheery music were a great comfort to me as I entered the establishment slowly, scanning the crowd. Han was sitting, legs popped up, in all his careless glory on the far right side of the cantina, and Chewie was making conversation at the bar. The boy was receiving a glass of the light liquor from the bartender. It didn’t take a genius, watching as he peered around uneasily, to figure out this wasn’t his scene. This was as good a chance as any other.

“Oh Artoo, I fear Master Luke has brought us to a place full of unsavory people. Stay close to me.” I heard a voice say, and I turned around to watch as the smaller droid beeped at the golden one in response. “Oh how dare you say that to me!” The golden droid seemed quite flustered. “You by far require my protection!” The R2 unit bleeped condescendingly. So these two were chatty, as if the irony of the situation wasn’t enough. I approached the droid, the stupid tall one, and probed. “Well, one doesn’t usually find nice company in a place like this.” I commented, and that motionless face turned towards me, somehow deeply expressive. “How did a nice etiquette droid like you end up here anyway?” It was funny, then, keeping my face impassive as the R2 unit began warning the other droid not to answer. It was swiftly ignored. “Oh, this buckethead here got into his head that we needed to complete some mission! I don’t think the princess would have wanted us to risk ourselves this much, but our new Master Luke considers it important. And of course we are here to serve!” He concluded graciously, right about confirming all my suspicions in one go. Only the Rebellion would go throwing words like ‘mission’ around. “Interesting” I said dismissively. I patted the metal shoulder as the R2 unit raved angrily at its friend. With new found decision, I turned towards the boy, only to pale at the sight of Spiderface talking to him.

Kriff.

I hurried in, weaving between patrons as I subtly unholstered my blasters. I got a peek through the patrons to see now Pigface was talking to him too.

Double Kriff.

I finally got close enough to hear the tail end of the speech “…on twelve systems.” I rolled my eyes. Side Note: Being officially Wanted makes you a bad outlaw, not a good one. “I’ll be careful.” I heard the boy say. I was astounded at both how firm and softly calm his voice sounded, and how stupid one must be to dismiss an unstable violent character like Pigface. Predictably, the boy was yanked forcefully by the shoulder, and the yelling began. “You’ll be dea-!” It’s incredible how quickly these seedy individuals shut up with a blaster against their throat. I cocked my head as Pigface turned his head to me. A hush had fallen over the cantina. So much for keeping my excursion from Han.

“I’m sorry, Dr. He’ll be what?” I whispered mockingly. “Hetel” called The Bartender, and I glanced his way as he urged “No Blasters!” I could have rolled my eyes, but I refrained, leaning forward just a bit. “Wuher, you know how The Doctor here gets when he’s angry at somebody. I’m keeping the peace and quiet in this Cantina.” Pigface, or if you need to know, Dr. Cornelius Evanzan, didn’t stop sneering at me the whole while. “That boy you’re protecting will be like you the moment you step outside this cantina if you think you can treat me like this, Little Hetel.” He said. My mouth twisted incredulously. “You’re an operating table maniac, Cornelius, you couldn’t take me in a fight.”  I responded. “Neither could your friend Ponda, for that matter.” I finished, tilting my head to where my other blaster was pressing against Spiderface’s head. I waited for the idiot to contradict me, but he knew of us Solos. Grabbing his friend’s shoulder, they both left the cantina. I exhaled as I watched them go, uncovering my face. Everyone knew both Solos were inside anyway. I leaned against the counter and the music resumed. “Wuher- I know you got some blue milk there. How ‘bout a gift for your fave cantina cleanser?” The Bartender narrowed his eyes at me as he gave me the free drink. “More like favorite troublemaker.” He muttered, turning towards the other patrons. I smiled broadly, “So I _am_ your favorite!” He waved a hand dismissively at me. I took a sip of the milk and glanced at the boy. Standing beside him, I realized I was a bit taller than him.

Poor one didn’t know what to make of me, if the bemused weary bewilderment on his face was any indication. I figured I’d wait for him to say something first, keeping a cocky eyebrow in place. The old man was looking at me. Chewie, who was beside him, was practically glaring. I made a point of not meeting his eyes. The silence stretched. I was getting anxious, so I just smirked pointedly at the boy. With a couple blinks, he seemed to snap out of his thoughts and smiled politely. “Thank you.” He said. And went back to his drink. Force, is that it?! “You’re welcome—though you need to learn not to call the attention like that.” Now he frowned, some personality imbuing his being. “I called the attention?!” He exclaimed, and I nodded, drinking some more and wiping my mouth. “Look-” I began, then waved my hand at him in silent question. “Luke” he said. “Look Luke”, I continued, leaning in close to him. “This seem to you the kinda place with the best townsfolk?” I asked, and he smiled wryly as he shook his head. “You think they want people looking around and listening in to their dealings?” I pressed, and I watched as his eyes widened in realization. “I-I wasn’t… _spying_!” He defended, and I nodded, putting a hand to his shoulder. “Sure, blue eyes, but they don’t need to be sure in order to condemn that pretty look.” I said before sipping my drink, admittedly to hide my nervousness. I’ve flirted on jobs, but hardly ever meant it. The boy huffed out a laugh, looking down as he fought off his own blush. This was the moment. “Anyway, didn’t your dad tell you this before bringing you here?” I questioned casually. “My dad?” He blinked at the floor, seeming mildly offended, before rising his head. “No, he’s not-”

“-Hey pops!” I called loudly, which wasn’t much in a place like this. But enough that the old man turned towards me, and I realized with a start he was talking business with Chewie. Darnit. If they were the ones reaching out, instead of us, they would divulge as little information as possible. Han would say a price to be paid effective immediately, which in our desperate times would be high, and these two wouldn’t be able to pay. It would be a done non-deal and any questions after would be hard pressed to sound casual and not suspicious. This whole situation was falling apart. Still, I had to finish this one interaction. “You bring your boy here and don’t tell him what you guys are walking into?”

“He’s not my dad!” Clarified Luke, and he seemed exasperated as he gestured between us. “Ben, this is Hetel. Hetel, this is Ben, my… mentor.” Mentor. Mentor in the war against the empire, no doubt. Poor dude was getting thrown into a hopeless cause he didn’t understand. I smiled cutely, and I held out my hand. As Ben took my hand, kindly saying it was a pleasure to meet me, I saw a flash under his tunic. Why did these people need two extremely rare unknown weapons?! The answer was they didn’t, and just like that, I had made a choice. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ben, but well…?”

The old man smirked. “I _told him explicitly_ there was not a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”

I laughed genuinely, and nodded deeply. “That _is_ an appropriate description.” Ben’s eyes sharpened, and in that charming old man manner asked “And why is a fair presence such as yourself in such a malicious environment?” Perfect. I shrugged. “This fair presence was bored and I had to burn off time.” I said, and made a mild show of looking at the holoclock. “And in the unexpected excitement did it burn off! I’m sorry sir, but I must be on my way.” I explained, making sure to seem surprised but not overly rushed. I did like these guys and I didn’t want to be around when I got bad blood. The man narrowed his eyes at me just a bit, but he seemed to get a pleasant feel of me because he just inclined his head, expressed he understood and turned back to Chewie. Who I still made a point of not looking in the eyes.

I guess experience doesn’t trump everything.

“It was nice meeting you.” Luke said, calling my attention back to him. The honest kindness in his person warmed my heart. And made me wanna cringe. “But-” he added unexpectedly “-I’m not a _boy_. You look my age.”

I smiled. “Well how old are you?”

“Nineteen.” He said proudly, raising his face just enough.

He looked very cute like that, trying to be all confident and self-assured. Since he was probably gonna die in the rebellion and wouldn’t like me so much in an hour or so, I made a snap choice.

If not now, then when?

If not here, where?

So I pecked him on the lips, feeling the giddy exhilaration rise up in my chest. And as his blues looked up at me all startled, I murmured “Still a _teen_ , though.”

And with that I left. Without Looking around. To evade Han and Chewie. Through the back. I preferred to avoid the uglyface duo.

It was only when I got to the ship that I unwrapped from the handkerchief the metal cylinder. Looking it over, it seemed the output was on one of its extremes. I shoulda at least know what this thing did. Pointing that end away from me, I pressed the red button on it. And was awarded with a bright blue light coming out. A stable blight blue… lineal… sword like light.

A laser sword.

Did- were they smuggling ancient Jedi weapons?

Was that old man… a- a Jedi?

What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment. Its power (powah! Unlimited powah!) to a writer's mind.


	3. The Falcon, Laser Swords and Religion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time on the Millenium Falcon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! I admit I took a little longer to upload this chapter, so I made it sighly longer to compensate. 
> 
> Again, if you find any incongruencies, or have any criticism to give me, (or praise *wink* *wink*) please do comment. Commenting is a great part of a writer's inspiration. Feedback is important.

I would like to say I thought about existential stuff, you know? Really wise reflections on the universe and the possibility that the Force is real. I would like to say that I reconsidered my whole view on life.

You know, something that makes me sound profound, or something.

I would also alternatively like to say that I was, you know, sort of giddy at the Rebellion actually having a chance. Pulling enough weight that some ancient legendary organization was offering their support. That the terrible terrible oppression of the Empire (that I was well aware of, thank you) may actually be close to an end.

You know, something that makes me sound selfless, willful and galaxy-conscious.

Or, even, you know, that I laughed and snickered at the possibility that the Rebellion was trying to pull one on the Empire. That they were trying to scare them off with a legend. Or inspire their troops with a party trick. Really, I specially wish I could say I thought that because it actually goes with my personality. People would actually believe me.

And it would make me seem witty as heck!

What actually happened was very different, though.

I was well aware that the Jedi were a beautiful legend, whispered under breathes to hopeful children and whatnot. The Epitome Forbidden Icons of a hockey religion. Completely dangerous to talk about with Empire loyalists, of course, because even the most ridiculous of legends were dangerous and they knew it. But certainly something some people grew up revering in silence.

An actual functioning Jedi weapon? It didn’t require any sort of authenticity proof- it was the kinda thing that would sell handsomely in the black market! It would be the kind of money to not only pay off the debt, but for our merry band to not do anything for months!

…Perhaps even invest- make our own cantina or restaurant or whatever. Han didn’t think long term- it wasn’t his style. We lived day-to-day. But hopefully, if we didn’t die, one day Han would be 40 and I would be 32 and someone would have to retire. Chewie cannot go carrying the heavy weight forever. Our lives were solved now!

I was so doing victory dances around the ship and squealing just thinking about it.

At one point I got a holo-call from Han. He was telling me to be on the ship for Kriff’s Sakes and, of course, I said I was way ahead of him. I was about to brag too but the idiot hung up on me! Oh well.

 So when Chewie entered the ship, along with Blondie and Fatherly Airs of all people, they walked in on me making swooshing noises as I waved around the Laser Sword. I mean, how many times in a life does one encounter one of these? And I didn’t even have time to wonder how they managed to lock down a deal with my brother. Since, suddenly, Cute Boy was in front of me with livid blue eyes. “ _That’s my lightsaber!”_ Well, hon, I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again, what was I to do? Client Consideration is a thing however, so I retracted the laser blade and handed it back to him. He looked at the weapon, then at me, at the weapon, at me again, incredulity written all over his soft features. I shrugged. “It’s not like I can argue with that.” I pointed out. “You thief!” He accused. I nodded. My brother was the master charmer and bullshitor to the end- for my part, in these kinds of situations I truly thought honesty was the best policy. I figured he needed assurance. “But look, listen, since now apparently you’ll be part of the Falcon’s tripulation, you’re more than safe from this thief!” I explained cheerily, though he still seemed quite miffed. Understandable- but awkward. Oh boy awkward. He seemed like he was about to dig into me about it, but then the old man put a hand on his shoulder, and the boy sorta slumped into himself. He made a vague gesture. “Won’t you at least apologize?” He muttered, eyebrow raised. I frowned at him, only just now truly annoyed at the boy. “I won’t apologize for who I am.” He pursed his lips and nodded, disgruntled as he went to sit down, while old Ben just gave me a disappointed look. The whole aura of this dude made that gaze very powerful, like this was a grandfather or an uncle and I was five years old, and I admit I wilted in embarrassment a bit. I raised my shoulders a little with a sheepish smile.

And then the shots began.

Granted, we weren’t in the crossfire or anything, but they were clearly just outside. I heard Chewie give a distressed growl from the cockpit. Han was still outside. I ran towards the ramp, unholstering my twin blasters, and slid just enough down to see what was going on. These damn stormtroopers were attacking my brother. I gritted my teeth as I began furiously shooting at them. Luckily Han didn’t take long to get inside as I gave him cover fire, and I made sure the ramp closed as Han urged Chewie to get us out immediately.  

I was kinda mad right now. As I was going to the cockpit, I spotted our passengers buckling up, and tact flew right out the window. “Hey!” The man met my eyes calmly, but the boy jumped a bit at my volume. “You’re damn Rebels, aren’t ya?” The boy glanced at the old man, deferring to his answer. “We paid your brother for _no questions_.” The man remarked. They so were, goddamnit. I stumbled to the Falcon’s guns as we took off, having a real bad feeling at the immediate violence of those troopers, or the amount that showed up outside. Those guys wouldn’t let us go so easy.

Understatement of the century, I thought, when upon reaching space, I spotted two Imperial Cruisers. I tapped incessantly against the glass as I hoped they would just let us through, but when I saw the massive ships turn towards us, I frowned. I prepped the gun, and after waiting a few seconds to make sure I was not picking a fight where there wasn’t, I began shooting.

The Falcon couldn’t exactly hurt an Imperial Cruiser, but it could divert focus. There was the slightest chance an idiot officer would stop shooting at us in favor of redirecting energy at the shields, that my shots may intercept one of theirs, or that I may actually take them by surprise and destroy one of their guns. They were big targets after all, and they didn’t exactly expect to be shot. Still, I had to admit the intention was a reflex more than anything. “You come after me, I come after you” kinda thing. So then, to my surprise, one of my lasers hit just an instant after one of their turrets shot, and the turret gave a small flash of light I could interpret as a mini-explosion. “I got one of the turrets!” I yelled, keeping fire. “That’s one thing less shooting at us!” I heard Han answer, and I grinned.

And then we got to Hyperspace, and I had to lean back at the nausea. Note to self: Hyperspace jumps are not comfortable in this spot of the Falcon.

Walking up into the cockpit, I spied the passengers in the Falcon’s living room doing… something. Good enough. I went and hugged Han’s head from behind. “Nice flying, Big Solo.” I saw the reflection on the glass as my brother smiled. “Nice shooting, Little Solo.” Chewie left out a soft whine, and I gave him a hug too. “Nice Co-piloting, fuzzball.” His big paw patted my hair. I could live with that. Enjoying the moment as Han checked the systems (our ship was a bit of an old gal), I closed my eyes. But then I turned my head towards Han, still leaning on Chewie. “Our passengers are more than what they seem.” I declared, and he raised an eyebrow at me. “You think, Hetel? Those were two imperial Cruisers, yes, so they are more popular than we thought, but that was still a kid and an old man. There’s not much mistaking that.” He said, while Chewie decided he wanted to go inside, leaving the copilot seat free for me. The Wookie was never one for prying around, anyway. I sighed. I didn't want to reveal my transgresions, but I felt my brother had sort of been wrongfully treated in respect to the information revealed during the negotiations. Here goes. “Look, when I went out and about I flirted with one of the soldiers-” “Hetel! You shouldn’t even have gone out!” Han chided. I raised my voice a little. ”-So he would tell me what they were up to. He said it was an intelligence matter for which they were looking for droids. Those droids our passengers have.” I finished. Han was scowling at the glass, which meant he was hung up on my flirting to random dudes. He hated when I did that. I snapped my fingers in his face, he turned to me and pointed a finger at my face, I swatted it away. “Did you hear what I said?” I asked, and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the kid and the oldie have interesting data on the droids, the point?” “The point is- what is the only group with info the Empire would want in on?” I pressed. “Little Sis,” Han began, and I just knew he was going to be dismissive, “you saw those two? Those are not Rebels.” He began making sure the ship could function just fine on auto-pilot. I smiled wryly at him. “You are the big leader here, sweet brother. I just want you informed, but if you don’t wanna hear me out.” I raised my hands in a sign of defeat as I said this, before continuing. “Just know this may be a bigger deal than we think we’re walking in on. And we’re blind. And apparently you promised we wouldn’t pry, so.” I stood up to leave, before Han called out to me as he pressed the last button and we both headed to the living room. He put an arm around my shoulder as we walked, and quietly told me it didn’t matter how big a deal it was anyway. I frowned, “why?”. Han smirked, “They’re paying us seventeen thousand!” he said. And I had to admit that was a great number right about now.

Once we were upon hearing distance, Han began bragging as we got comfortable, him sitting down and me leaning against a wall, curious about what exactly the boy was doing. And admittedly admiring the cute concentrated look he had on his face. “I told you we’d outrun them.” Han finished, but it appeared I wasn’t the only one distracted by something else in the room. “Well don’t everybody thank me at once.” He muttered, and I patted his shoulder. “I already congratulated ya’, bro.” He sent a half smile my way, and just like that I knew our little discussion mattered not. That was us. Han began intimidating the poor droids with Chewie as the threat, and I observed the kid. I never woulda thought the laser sword could be used to deflect shots. Granted, I knew a shot could sorta interrupt another shot if one was really lucky, but I never thought that effect could be made use of intentionally. And the boy had good reflexes indeed. Of every 5 shots, he was stopping 4. Not useful in a firefight, really, unless he became stupidly good at it, even when not expecting it. Was this a Jedi thing? Was this boy, this child, really, trying to recreate a legend?

“Remember a Jedi can feel the force flowing through him.” Ben said, and I guess that answered my question.

“You mean it controls your actions?” The boy asked, and the perceptiveness on the enquiry surprised me. Regardless of how ridiculously seriously he was taking this thing, the boy had a clever bone in him.

“Partially, but it also obeys your commands.” Old Ben explained, and I was frowning, then. Who exactly was this dude and was he playing a game? Did he actually think he knew of the Force or whatever? Was he deluded? The Old Man sent me a shrewd look, highly amused, and I again felt chastised, like he had heard my thoughts. I avoided his look glancing at my nails. Old and all, he certainly commanded a presence I would imagine a Jedi to have. Wise, calm, aware- perhaps not dangerous, but gently threatening.

At least I could understand why the kid took him seriously.

I heard a yelp, and my brother laughed. I glanced up to see the boy massaging his hip, bowing his body charmingly.

Oh yes, I just thought that. I bit my lip. If the boy wasn’t mounted on a fantasy, wasn’t a freaking rebel, didn’t currently resent me and wasn’t younger than me, I would absolutely eat him alive.

“Hockey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster.” My brother proclaimed, and I frowned a little, not sure if I agreed. I liked my twin blasters, I did. They were my babies, personified, charming and deadly. But religions moved worlds. The potential of that Ancient Weapon was incredible. One on one, if I’m shooting at a guy and he is just repelling the shots, coming steadily closer… I’d felt the heat of that thing as I waved it around, I felt like it could burn off anything.

“You don’t believe in the Force, do you?” The boy challenged, and I let out a laugh, shaking my head emphatically. Han grinned, and gave his standard explanation any time any religion was put on debate. I added as he finished, “It would be comforting, however, to believe something out there is personally aware of me and taking care. I wish I believed.” Han turned towards me, surprised. “No kidding?” “No kidding, bro.” I responded. It was not usually what I would say, if I could get away with it I usually kept quiet. But I didn’t want to ridicule the boy, so if sharing a little more could help, why not?

This time, I saw as the old man smirked, and as he took a helmet and put it on the boy’s head, covering his eyes, I knew. He was trying to prove something, to convince me and specially to ridicule my brother. I guess some courtesies just didn’t extend both ways. Now I knew the Old Man was not a player, but indeed, deluded.

Poor boy, he was gonna get burned.

First shot, predictably, got the boy. My brother turned away, I took the chance to really check the boy out, my eyes perusing his form. Wasn’t particularly strong, but his slim frame was charming.

But then he intercepted three shots in quick succession, and I felt my mouth drop open.

My brother was resistant to being impressed, however. “I call it luck.”

“In my experience there is no such thing as luck.” Ben insisted. Blue eyes flitted between the two.

“Look, good against controllers is one thing. Good against the living? That’s something else.” My brother said conclusively. But I was not convinced. An alarm beeped. We were coming up on Alderaan. My brother began to stand up, but I pushed him back down. “Wait a second, Chewie- can you make sure we don’t crash?” The Wookie answered me in the positive, while my brother glanced at me annoyed. I shrugged at him as I configured one of my twin guns to minimum intensity. “I don’t want to be left in doubt, can you put on that helmet, Lucas? We’ll try against the living.” I explained. Ben frowned at me. My brother reluctantly crossed his arms. And the boy scowled a bit as he put on the helmet and activated the laser sword. “It’s Luke, not Lucas!” He clarified. I apologized and insisted he concentrated. I shot up, down, to the left and down. He stopped all of them. I shot up twice and he got those too. At this point I was sure I was grinning like a maniac, and Ben looked all proud too.

“Good against the living.” I sentenced, biting my lip, and Han stood up and whacked me on the head. I frowned at him, and he rose his eyebrow.

Oh no. He’s _aware_ of my soft infatuation now. I’ll never hear the end of it. “It still doesn’t prove anything.” He said, like that was what got him bothered. And it probably was part of it. With that he went to accompany Chewie in the cockpit.

Luke took off his helmet and walked towards Ben. I strained to hear. “You know I did feel something.” Luke gushed. “I could almost see the shots.”

 “That’s good. You’re taking the first steps into a larger world.” Ben answered, and suddenly I wished to have known my dad. Instead of just… Han.

Nothing against Han, but Han by definition cannot be fatherly.

“Speaking of larger world…” I said a bit loudly, getting their attention as I walked over to them. “I feel like we began with the left foot. Hi, I’m Hetel Solo, honorable thief and sister of honorable smuggler, Han Solo. Member of the distinguished Millenium Falcon crew.” I held out my hand. Luke looked at it for a second, then glanced up at me, and I had to strain to not show his hesitance was making me nervous.

Yes, I pecked the guy’s lips as I stole his clearly valued weapon, but that didn’t mean anything, really. Just that it’s what I do and that I felt like it. I wanted to be on good terms. We could be on good terms, couldn´t we?

Luke smiled, and shook my hand. “Luke Skywalker, future Jedi Knight.”

I held in a laugh, because perceptive or not, instinctive or not, the stories of the Jedi hinted at truly unbelievable things. I held my hand out to Ben. The old man smiled kindly. “Ben Kenobi.” He said simply.

I waved them towards the cockpit. “C’mon, I think you guys can take a break from laser sword training.”

“It’s a _lightsaber_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to tell you guys that everytime I wrote "laser sword" in this chapter, I wanted to claw my eyes out. But poor Hetel wouldn't know any better, so. 
> 
> I hope to be keeping Luke within character. Tell me if you think otherwise. 
> 
> I would also like to know: would you guys mind changing points of view? Or do you guys prefer constant points of view? Its such a tricky thing to manage, that I just need to know what you guys think or are willing to try out when reading this story.

**Author's Note:**

> I would adore comments, and to know your thoughts and critique, as I wish to develop my writing.


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